sign {h.s.}

capítulo trinta e oito*

"YOU LOOK BEAUTIFUL today." My boyfriend's voice is familiar through the phone as I exit my Thursday afternoon class, planning on heading back to my dorm to get started on some of my studying and work. With plans to leave for Paris a week from today, I've been working double-time to ensure that I'm in a good position to leave for the weekend and not have an insurmountable pile of work waiting for me when we get back home.

At the sound of the compliment, both a blush singes my cheeks and a smile pulls on my lips.

There is an immediate, and obvious, appreciation for his words, but also a level of confusion. My outfit for classes today had been nothing extraordinary—only a pair of yoga pants and one of Harry's sweatshirts to fend against the light fall chill. "You haven't even seen me today," I counter him, rolling my eyes. "I bet you'd be singing a different song if you did."

Harry only laughs at me, "primarily, I should like to say it's rather ridiculous for you to presume that I need to see you in order to decide whether or not you look beautiful on any given day; as, I would argue, it's a given. Though, I should like to say that I find it quite adorable that you're wearing my sweatshirt, chérie."

Immediately on high alert I scan the crowd, knowing that Harry is somewhere among them.

As my eyes begin to search, Harry's laughter sounds in my ears again, "warmer, warmer," he encourages, as I flick through the crowd, knowing that I'm going in the right direction. Only when my eyes finally land on him, leaning against his familiar car, phone in hand, his eyes right on me does he merely whisper, "hot," before hanging up the phone.

Small things like this are what act as a furnace to my heart. The little displays of affection and the every day acts of kindness where he goes out of his way to do something to make me feel good serve as concrete reminders of his infatuation. An infatuation that I'm an equal victim in, sinking perpetually deeper into the abyss of unnamed feelings.

Excitement zings through my body once my gaze lands on him, propelling my feet forward to close the gap between us, crashing into him. Our bodies combine in nothing short of a bone-shattering hug; a hug that he eagerly returns, his arms wrapping around my frame and his lips pressing down on the top of my head. "What are you doing here?" I ask him, my voice muffled by the material of his shirt, but by no means disappointed by his presence in front of me.

"Is it so much of a crime that I wanted to see my girl?" He asks, his hand clutching his heart as though I've hurt him.

"Yes," I laugh, rolling my eyes at him, "especially when your job requires you to be elsewhere."

My boyfriend only shrugs impartially, turning both of us in the direction of his car. He opens the passenger door for me first, helping me get in before he shuts the door behind me. Quickly moving to his side of the car, he situates himself before turning the key over and starting the ignition, cautiously backing out of his parking spot. "Boyfriend job requires me to be right here."

"Cheesy."

"True."

"No, but really, why aren't you with Lola right now?"

As he begins to drive, my boyfriend instinctively reaches over, wrapping his fingers around mine, our hands resting on the center console. "Lola's class was canceled," he explains, shrugging his shoulders, "knew you had one ending right about now and just figured I'd surprise you with a nice visit."

"Consider me very surprised then," there is no chance of fighting the gleeful smile from my face—the one that is most familiar on my features when he is within my immediate radius. On the main road now, buildings pass us by as he settles into a comfortable speed. Nonchalance radiates off of his features, an enviable casualness set in his posture. "Where are we going?"